


A Reason to Heal

by Blackviolet17



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Akaashi is a mess, Alternate Universe - Small Town, Bokuto is my spirit animal, Fluff and Humor, Healing, M/M, Slow Burn, possible angst, this story is a mess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-11-16 10:12:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11251014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blackviolet17/pseuds/Blackviolet17
Summary: Akaashi Keiji was beautiful, his appearance sensational enough to make even angels weep with envy. His looks gathered the attention of any crowd, admirers constantly flocking to his side only to later slink away when he opened his mouth. This was because Akaashi was also incredibly boring. He lived an average, mediocre life with little room for others. He was horribly blunt, unintentionally rude, and hard to understand. Akaashi Keiji was broken.In an attempt to heal his disgruntled personality, Keiji’s mother sent him away to his Uncle’s to live for the summer. There, he finds a town filled with more joy for humanity than he had ever previously thought possible. He meets good, wholesome people, experiences, for the first time, what it means to love and be loved, and, eventually, opens up his heart to the world around him.And all it took was the accidental meeting of one Bokuto Koutarou.





	1. Less Than Therapeutic

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is my first fanfic. Ever. I really hope you like it.

The train came to a grinding halt, and Akaashi followed the crowd of exhausted, haggard travelers out of the car, stumbling towards the front of the station with a duffel bag in tow. His mother was having the rest of his belongings shipped to his Uncle’s home directly, leaving Akaashi with nothing more than his basic necessities: a toothbrush, change of clothes, and a few crumpled dollar bills. He was still angry and ashamed by the whole nature of this endeavor. His mother, Miss Akaashi Reiju, was so troubled by his quiet, often dismissive personality that she actually felt the need to “heal him” as she’d so graciously called it. 

She’d talked nonstop about his Uncle’s small, quaint town, about how wonderful its people and atmosphere were. He’d spent countless hours ignoring her many tales about its magical properties and amazing aura, often asking that she stop boasting fairytales and instead leave him be. It was this attitude, this dismissive, blunt nature that always seemed to get Akaashi in trouble. Apart from his pretty face, he had no other redeeming qualities. Whenever he spoke, others came away from the conversation either with bruised egos or ruffled feathers. He’d tried many times to reign in his rude tendencies, but that’s exactly what they were: tendencies. It’s not as though he could simply change his character’s inclination just to make other people feel more comfortable. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t just _change_ his behavior. 

But somehow his mother was convinced otherwise. His Uncle, her eldest brother, had planted it in her mind that his town could save Akaashi on some level. The two of them honestly seemed to think that a single summer could change a lifetime of wrongdoings. 

Lifting the duffel bag higher up on this slim shoulder, Akaashi shook his head to clear it of his troubled thoughts and began navigating the crowd once more. Finally reaching the main doors, Akaashi pushed outside, squinting hard against the afternoon sun. He wasn’t used to the weather in this area, the always-present humidity causing his grey T-shirt to cling to his pale skin and making his lungs feel heavy. The atmosphere already proving to be anything less than therapeutic. 

Once his eyes adjusted, he scanned the parking lot for the familiar, insipid blue of his Uncle’s pick-up. When he didn’t immediately find his target, Akaashi pulled out his phone and sent his Uncle a quick text, asking if he had arrived. Awaiting a reply, he sighed in relief when he, instead, caught sight of the dull truck parked near the edge of the lot. Stumbling over the cracked pavement, Akaashi briskly walked down the rows of parked cars, wanting desperately to escape the heat. With the pick-up in reach, he tossed his bag in the bed of the truck and then climbed into the passenger seat with hurried hands. Only after his seatbelt was firmly clicked in place did he bother to look up. 

There, staring back at him with wide, golden eyes, was a boy, looking to be about his age or maybe even a little older. He was wearing dark-wash jeans and a red flannel that clashed loudly with his two-toned hair. His mouth was formed in a small ‘o’ shape, and his hands had yet to shift from their place against the steering wheel. A crimson flush began to creep its way up the front of Akaashi’s face and neck as the reality of his situation began to set in.

_He’d gotten in the wrong car._

__

His mouth tried to form words of apology but did nothing more than flap open and shut uselessly. Positive that the blush had now reached his hairline, he decided it was time to bolt. Unclicking his seatbelt, Akaashi fumbled with the door handle until it popped open, and he managed to tumble back out onto the fragmented asphalt. The boy continued to stare in shock as Akaashi closed the door, ducked into a quick, low bow, and then broke into a dead sprint away from the vehicle. 

__

He’d only stopped to catch his breath when he was sure that he was out of the trucks line of sight, the amount of sweat clinging to his skin having tripled from either the effort of his run or the shock of his fraying nerves. 

__

A sharp vibration buzzed against his thigh, and he removed the phone from his pocket, seeing a new message from his Uncle. 

__

**Akaashi Atsuya: I’m parked along the street. Are you having trouble finding me?**

__

_Trouble doesn’t begin to describe it._

__

~ ~ ~

__


	2. Special Delivery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akaashi can't stop blushing  
> Bokuto can't stop staring

Akaashi’s Uncle Atsuya was one of the few people in the world that could actually stand to be around him. He didn’t mind Akaashi’s flippant tone, rude gestures, or seemingly uncaring attitude. He never got angry when Akaashi’s words held a bit more bite than necessary or when he decided that listening wasn’t really all that important. Unlike his mother, Atsuya was patient and willing enough to forgive the behavior that made Akaashi so disgusting at heart. 

Even now, his Uncle chose to overlook Akaashi’s silence as his trembling hands clutched the seatbelt tighter against his chest. He was still sweating despite the pick-up’s open windows and the wind rustling his dark hair. Neither of them had said a word since Akaashi had first climbed in the truck, eyes wide and T-shirt sticky in the afternoon light. Neither of them tried to bridge his obvious distress with conversation, avoiding the usual bullshit like “how was the train?” and “it’s really good to see you.” 

Because it wasn’t good. Seeing Akaashi here, in this truck, in this _town_ , only served to prove just how messed up he truly was. His own mother didn’t even want him around, and pretty soon his Uncle wouldn’t want him either. 

The ride continued in this manner until they reached his Uncle’s house, the silence only broken when Akaashi released a small gasp, whipped his head around, and frantically searched the truck bed’s interior. His Uncle peered at him quizzically, his gray brows twitching upwards. 

“You okay, Keiji?”

A low blush re-entered his cheeks as he remembered a set of brilliant, golden eyes and the duffel bag he’d left behind with their owner. There was no way he could tell his Uncle about that. 

“Fine.” His tone was dismissive, well-guarded, practiced. Somehow, his Uncle didn’t seem to notice. 

Together, they stepped out of the truck and carried themselves towards the front door. Inside, Akaashi kicked off his shoes, following as his Uncle led him past the kitchen, down the hall, and into a back bedroom. His Uncle had renovated the old farmhouse years prior, patching up all its holes and removing its mysterious squeaks. Akaashi had spent the night in this same bedroom when it was first built eight years ago. He had been terrified back then, sleeping in an unfamiliar bed, lying in an unfamiliar house, all located in an unfamiliar town. The only difference now being that he was expected to call this place his own. 

“So, how’s pizza sound? If you want, you can grab a quick shower, and I’ll lend you some clothes. Your mom said that your things should be here in the morning.” His Uncle’s gruff voice broke Akaashi away from his reverie, and he smiled politely.

“Pizza sounds great. I think I’ll wait to shower though.” Akaashi’s sticky skin and greasy hair were telling him otherwise, but he wasn’t really in the mood to do much about either. 

His Uncle returned the smile, pulling out his phone and heading back to the kitchen. Unsure of what to do, Akaashi followed him, glancing out a large, bay window to see a slow drizzle taking place, watching each smooth droplet glint off the glass’s surface. The sun had gone down, leaving the sky a mix of red-orange hues that fought each other over the horizon. The wind began to pick up, and Akaashi felt the whole house creak, matching the movements of the trees swaying outside. The drizzle quickly turned into a downpour, which then turned the sky into a wisp of black and gray. Akaashi continued to stare at the darkening atmosphere until a loud banging at the front door captured his attention. 

His Uncle, now done with his call, looked between his phone and the oak door, amazed that his pizza was done so fast. Choosing not to question it, he reached to open the door while, at the same time, Akaashi was grabbing a bottled water from the fridge and pressing its cool surface against his molten cheek. Three things happened when the door swung open: first, the power went out, a loud, trembling crack of thunder ripping the air from Akaashi’s lungs; second, lightning illuminated the houses dark interior; third, Akaashi dropped his water bottle. 

“Hey, hey, Atsuya-san. Guess I’m bad luck, huh?” A voice asked from the open door.

Nausea struck Akaashi’s stomach, its cruel fingers beginning to form a fist inside him. He didn’t recognize the voice, but he was more than familiar with its owner; the two-toned hair he’d witnessed in that flash of lightning too impossible to replicate. In that moment, Akaashi wished he could go back to being eight years old, back to a time when the only thing he had to fear were the fictitious monsters under his bed instead of the very real demons he grappled with now. Reality made him want to cry. 

“Hey, Kou-kun. Don’t worry about the power, it’ll be back soon. Seems like I lose it almost every time the wind blows. What brings you by?”

The two of them stepped further inside, nothing more than shadows, when, as if on cue, the lights came back on. Akaashi squinted against the harsh fluorescents, pressing himself against the counter in hopes that he could disappear. 

Their visitor lifted the duffel bag from his side proudly and beamed up at Atsuya. 

“I’m on a special delivery. Do you know a-”, he squinted down at the duffel bag’s label, “Akaashi Keiji? I figured that the two of you might be related.”

Akaashi’s body seized up at the mention of his name, and he leaned further into the countertop.

_Disappear. Disappear. Disappear._

“That’d be my nephew.” Atsuya turned to call over his shoulder. “Keiji, could you come here for a minute?”

Nausea turned to pain, and that pain translated into fear. Akaashi peeled himself away from the counter, feeling a potential bruise forming on his hip. He kept his eyes turned downwards and shuffled to stand beside his Uncle, his earlier blush re-establishing itself against his skin. 

It took Akaashi a few painstaking moments to lift his gaze, golden eyes looking back at him expectantly. He held out his hand, and the boy obediently placed the duffel bag in it. Akaashi hugged the material to his chest, his nose catching the soft scent of home. His Uncle nudged his shoulder lightly and then tipped his head in the other boy’s direction. Seems his rude nature had reared its ugly head again. 

“Ah, thank you er- “Akaashi’s voice trailed off when he realized that they had yet to introduce themselves, and his blush darkened.

“Bokuto Koutarou. It’s very nice to properly meet you Akaashi Keiji.” The boy, well, Bokuto, gave him a toothy grin, free of any and all malice that Akaashi had previously been expecting. 

The way he said ‘Akaashi’ with a small lilt in his voice made Keiji’s lips twitch, and the pain in his stomach was replaced by warmth. He offered up his own, small smile, and it was as if someone had removed the haze blocking his senses. Suddenly he was very aware of the rain outside, of its soft patters against the roof of the house. He could smell the sweat leeching into his clothes and feel the soft denim of his jeans pressed against the skin of his thighs. Most of all, he was avidly conscious of Bokuto’s eyes because he realized that the golden orbs had yet to stray from him. 

He should have been uncomfortable, maintaining eye contact with a stranger for that long, but he wasn’t. No matter how deeply his gaze penetrated, nothing threatening could be found in the other boy’s pools of shimmering hazel. 

Beside them, Atsuya cleared his throat, and their spell was broken. Akaashi took a few, careful steps back, averting his gaze elsewhere. He could still feel Bokuto’s attentive eyes on him, but he refused to turn. 

“Well, Kou-kun, it sounds like the storms quieted down. You should get home before it picks up again. 

Bokuto nodded, almost begrudgingly, and told the two of them to have a good night before fumbling with the door handle and then tripping down the porch steps on the way to his car. Akaashi had to suppress the laugh bubbling in his chest, struggling to remember how long it had been since he’d even had the urge to laugh. 

When Bokuto was gone, Atsuya turned to Akaashi, expression incredulous. “What the hell was that?”

A small snort finally escaped him, and Akaashi used a hand to hide his smile. “I have no idea.”

~ ~ ~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still a fairly short chapter, but I'm building up to the good stuff. I love feedback so feel free to comment! 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who takes the time to read this! <3


	3. Impossible

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m not bald. Shaving your head doesn’t make you bald. You’re bald.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a mess  
> I'm not sorry

The delivery truck arrived early the next morning as promised by his mother. Akaashi was expecting a few boxes of clothing, maybe even a book or two. What he got instead was a truck jam-packed with nearly everything he owned. All of his personal belongings and day to day pleasures had been stripped down, packed up, and shipped hundreds of miles. Surely he wouldn’t need his old kneepads and volleyball posters to survive a mere 3-month vacation, and yet here they were, tucked among several other useless knick-knacks. 

His Uncle Atsuya had left for work before Akaashi had even managed to get out of bed, leaving him to carry box after box into the house by himself. He started unpacking almost immediately after the last box was safely inside, not bothering to pull out anything other than his clothes and phone charger. 

Once he had accomplished some form of haphazard organization, he took a quick, hot shower to finally rid himself of the previous days sweat. His mother seemed to have remembered everything but his soap, so he made a mental note to go shopping later that day. 

When he was satisfied with his level of clean, he dried off, and changed into a pair of black jeans coupled with a dark blue T-shirt. He tousled his downy locks with his fingers, not bothering to comb them, and slipped into his shoes. Locking the door with the key his Uncle had given him the night before, Akaashi started down the street. If he remembered correctly from the drive in, there was a store about three miles from here that was likely to sell the brand of shampoo he loved. 

The quiet of his Uncle’s neighborhood was almost deafening compared to the city life Akaashi was used to, the houses too far apart and the yards much too big. The landscape made him feel small in comparison, nostalgia weighing heavily on his mind. 

He had just rounded the corner when the loud cough of a tired engine sputtered behind him. He watched as a blue pick-up parked crookedly at the end of his Uncle’s drive and wondered if he had, for some reason, come home early. Instead, he looked on as Bokuto emerged from the vehicle, fluffing his unruly hair before proceeding to trip over his untied shoelaces. Almost as soon as his body connected with the ground, he was back on his feet again as if it were an action he was used to repeating. His head whipped in every direction, checking to see if anyone had witnessed his blunder. 

When his eyes met Akaashi’s less than a block away, he let out a loud ‘ah!’ sound and pointed at him accusingly. Before Akaashi could protest, Bokuto was sprinting across the lawn, vaulting over rosebushes and dodging sprinklers to get to him. 

Less than two feet away from Akaashi, he breathed deeply with his hands on his knees, seemingly exhausted by his own impulsiveness. 

They stood for quite some time with nothing more than the sound of bokuto’s heaving breaths between them before Akaashi decided to take the initiative.

“Good morning, Bokuto-san,” like yesterday, he felt decidedly unthreatened around this man, words somehow coming more naturally than he was used to. 

“Good.” _Gasp._ “Morning.” _Gasp._ “Akaashi.” _Gasp._

Despite Bokuto’s obvious distress, Akaashi felt a small smile grace his lips.

“What do you want?” As soon as the words left his mouth, Akaashi froze, his smile falling away. Even he could hear the unintentional ice in his tone, sinking its sharpened teeth into the once pleasant atmosphere.

Bokuto, however, was unfazed by his words. He took a final, calming breath and stood back up to his full height, putting him just a few centimeters above Akaashi. 

Excitement replaced his exhaustion as his eyes crinkled to match his vibrant smile. 

“I was wondering if you wanted to hang out today. I thought I could show you around town and introduce you to some people.”

The idea of meeting with others created a nagging pit in Akaashi’s stomach, but he couldn’t ignore the fact that his awful personality seemed to have no effect on Bokuto’s at all. 

Akaashi contemplated his options, the pit in his stomach nearly advancing into an ulcer when he imagined the not-so-very-kind reactions other people were bound to have towards his attitude. 

Bokuto watched him expectantly, gnawing on the edge of his lip and pulling at his fingers in anticipation. 

Akaashi sighed. “Okay, but can we stop at a store?”

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Akaashi browsed the aisle, scanning the shelves for the familiar label while Bokuto rocked beside him. It was a habit he’d immediately picked up on as soon as they’d entered his truck. A part of Bokuto was always moving, his hands would twist, his feet would tap, his head would bob, and, in instances like this, his whole body would move. 

All they were doing was buying a bottle of shampoo, but the ever-present sparkle of excitement still showed in Bokuto’s eyes. When Akaashi finally spotted his brand, he stretched up onto his tip-toes to grab it. His fingers were just a hairbreadth away from the base of the bottle when a warm body pressed against his back. Akaashi’s breath caught as long fingers skipped past his own to wrap around the object of interest, and then the warmth was gone. 

Bokuto beamed at him innocently, reaching up to grab a second bottle, and now it was Akaashi’s turn to catch his breath.

“You okay, Akaash? I use the same brand as you. Weird, huh?”

It took Akaashi a moment to unscramble his thoughts, telling himself that he would have to think about his reaction to Bokuto’s proximity later. 

“A-Akaash?”

“Oh, yeah. Is it okay if I call you that? I was thinking about it last night, and it seemed to fit you really well.”

Bokuto was thinking about him? About boring Akaashi Keiji and what kinds of nicknames he could call him next time they met? And he had actually wanted to see him again? Impossible. 

“I suppose that’s fine then,” Akaashi replied softly. 

Thrilled, Bokuto started bouncing on the balls of his feet, his eyes sparkling once more. “Great. Then you can call me whatever you want too, ‘kay?”

Akaashi’s chest filled with the same soothing warmth that it had the day before. 

“Okay.” 

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Back on the road, the two of them split a Kit-Kat bar that Bokuto had insisted they buy, and he was telling Keiji about his friends around a mouthful of chocolate.

“Some of them can be, uh, a little _extra,_ ‘ya know? They’re super nice, but all of them together is a bit… much.”

He sucked the chocolate from his fingers and then flashed Akaashi a candy-coated smile. 

“Don’t worry, they’re gonna love you. You’ll be a regular part of the crew in no time.”

Akaashi felt that Bokuto may have been overestimating his social skills, but he continued to nurse his chocolate silently. 

They soon pulled into the parking lot of a small building, the sign above the door reading ‘Mama Crow’s Coffee House’ in large, bold print. Black feathers were painted across the length of the windows and door, giving the illusion that the building was Mama Crow herself. The name and building it described looked more than inviting, and Akaashi felt himself relax a bit. Giddy, Bokuto pulled him from the truck, and, together, they entered the establishment.

All pleasant feelings Akaashi may have had about the shop were quickly washed away by the sight before him. There, on the floor, was a dark-haired, well-built man, holding another man, nearly equal in build, in a headlock. The two of them were rolling around the floor, curses and spit flying as they tried to kill each other. A terrifying man with a shaved head was cackling darkly in the corner at the apparent entertainment before him while a rather short, feisty looking fellow with a tuft of bleach blonde hair mixed among the rest of its brown counterparts slept on a nearby table. The shop’s only sane looking occupant was a silver haired man resting behind the counter, his chin propped in one hand and a cup of tea in the other. 

Bokuto glanced between the wrestling pair and Akaashi before shrugging and skirting around them. Akaashi followed after him, horrified, before sitting down at the counter to watch the bloodshed unfold. 

Finally, the pinned man cried uncle and was released from his headlock, the two of them helping each other to their feet as though nothing had happened. 

“A little _extra,_ ” Akaashi muttered, leaning back against the counter.

Bokuto grinned sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. 

“Oh, what’s this, Bokuto? A new friend? He’s awful pretty.” the silver haired man smiled politely, extending his empty hand towards Akaashi.

The comment about Akaashi’s appearance made him cringe internally, but he accepted the shake nonetheless. 

“Akaashi, meet Sugawara Koushi. Proud owner of Mama Crow’s,” Bokuto announced, gesturing at their clasped hands. 

Keiji smiled politely and turned to meet the rest of the group. 

“The bald one is Tanaka, Nishinoya’s sleeping over there, Daichi is Suga’s boyfriend, and this- “he paused to wrap his arm around the last gentleman’s shoulders, “is my bro, Kuroo.”

Before Akaashi could respond, Daichi cut in. “I’m way more than just ‘Suga’s boyfriend’. What the hell kind of introduction was that Bo?”

“Daichi, hun,” Suga tried to placate him but was cut off by Tanaka.

“I’m not bald. Shaving your head doesn’t make you bald. You’re bald.”

The café erupted in shouts, and Daichi’s hands stopped just short of Kuroo’s throat when Suga slammed his glass down on the counter with shatter-worthy force. 

“This place opens in five minutes, and I will not have you guys acting like animals when the _important_ customers show up.”

Kuroo gasped in protest, but Suga cut him off. “Money equals importance. When’s the last time you actually paid for something when you came here?”

The café fell silent once more, and Akaashi was stunned by how all over the place these people were. Daichi slunk behind the counter and wrapped his arms around Suga’s midsection, whispering his apologies. 

“So, Akaashi-san,” Kuroo began, stalking towards the counter, “tell us about yourself.”

_Uh-oh_

“I, uh, well… “ he looked to Bokuto for help, fumbling over his own incompetence. 

“Akaash is staying with Atsuya-san for the summer. He’s super fast. He ran away from me the other day, and I didn’t even see where he went. He’s also good at hiding. I know because I tried to find him after he ran, and he was just gone. He uses the same shampoo as me, which is great because that means he smells _awesome_ , and he’s really nice. Oh! He’s Atsuya-san’s nephew.”

By the end of Bokuto’s speech, Keiji’s face was bright red, Suga was grinning evilly, and everyone else around them looked equal shades of confused.

The odd, soothing warmth spread through Akaashi’s chest again, and he choked on air. Impossible. 

“Well, he’s also hot. Possibly even hotter than Oikawa,” Kuroo mused.

Suddenly, the door burst open, and in walked two more men.

_Do girls in this town just not drink coffee?_

“You called?” The first man, presumably Oikawa, asked, and even Akaashi had to admit that he was pretty hot. 

Beside him, the other man rolled his eyes, checking the time on his watch. 

“Are we too early, Suga? We can wait if you want,” he was incredibly polite compared to his companion, who was now fluffing his hair and giving Kuroo the finger when he tried to join in. 

“Nope, you’re right on time, Iwaizumi. I’ll get some to-go cups ready for you two,” Suga replied, downing the remainder of his tea and starting to bustle about. 

Iwaizumi mumbled his thanks and then hissed when Oikawa grabbed his arm sharply. 

“Iwa-chan! Iwa-chan! Kuroo-chan thinks that guy over there is prettier than me! Tell him he’s wrong, defend my honor!” Oikawa squawked.

Confused, Iwaizumi turned to meet Akaashi’s equally puzzled gaze, and his eyes widened a fraction. Keiji’s already flushed face burned hotter under the extra scrutiny, and he turned his back on the crowd to watch Suga prepare the drinks. 

Iwaizumi reached out and smoothed a hand through Oikawa’s perfectly arranged hair, but, unlike with Kuroo, Oikawa allowed it. 

“You’re beautiful, Tooru. Absolutely stunning. Now, come on. You’re gonna make us late, Shittykawa,” there was no real bite to Iwaizumi’s words, his tone loving as he grabbed Oikawa’s hand, and the two of them fled the café with their fresh drinks. 

“Ah, shit. Iwaizumi’s too good. I wish he would date me,” Kuroo whined. 

The café was momentarily filled with words of agreement and enthusiastic nods.

“This coming from the only person in this room still claiming to be straight,” Daichi grunted, wiping down the counter dutifully. 

“Hey, _someone_ from our graduating class needed to turn out straight. It was getting pretty scary there for a minute,” Kuroo said, scuffing his shoe on the floor.

Daichi scolded the action, and the two of them broke out in another argument that was quickly turning physical. 

“Hey, hey, Akaash,” Bokuto called, regathering Akaashi’s attention, “what are you doing tomorrow?”

A soft snore rose from the table where Nishinoya’s prone form was still lying, face down, his foot giving a slight twitch. 

“Oh, he better not be drooling on my good placemats again!” Suga shouted, ripping off his apron, rolling back his sleeves, and charging towards his unsuspecting victim.

Akaashi smiled. A real, genuine smile. Bokuto forgot how to breathe.

“I think I’ll try the coffee.”

~ ~ ~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was kind of all over the place, but that's okay. Feel free to comment and let me know what you thought! 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who takes the time to read this! <3


	4. The Embodiment of Possibility

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daichi and Suga make excellent parents

“I would make an excellent mother,” Suga announced happily, topping off Akaashi’s coffee for the third time that morning. 

Daichi pouted beside him, continuing to stir sugar into the same cup he had been for the last half hour.

“I know. It’s a real shame I can’t give you any children. I’m the worst boyfriend ever,” Daichi muttered, setting the cup down in front of a waiting Kuroo. 

“Daichi, this is just a cup of sugar,” Kuroo whined, but he was pointedly ignored by everyone except Bokuto, who patted his shoulder sympathetically. 

Akaashi frowned at Daichi’s words, not failing to catch the obvious sorrow in his tone. It was a shame that the two of them couldn’t have a child, but that didn’t mean they’d never be parents and, in a way, they already were. In the week Akaashi had known them, he’d watched Suga remove splinters from Noya’s hands with practiced ease, help Tanaka pay for a pair of much-needed shoes, and listen intently as Bokuto spouted off his usual nonsense all while Daichi openly preached relationship advice, never brushing off even the smallest of issues in an attempt to secure the happiness of those important to him. 

The two of them combined made for greater parents than Akaashi could ever hope to have, far surpassing his own mother in every right. 

Kuroo, dissatisfied, shoved the soiled coffee back across the counter and pulled Bokuto from his stool. He tossed an apologetic smile over his shoulder as Kuroo dragged him to the opposite end of the café, his eyes lingering a bit on Akaashi’s face. 

“Does it bother you?” Suga asked, noticing Akaashi’s frown.

“What?” 

“Bokuto, um… Daichi and I being, well, uh…” his voice trailed off, losing most of its strength towards the end.

“Gay,” Daichi supplied, grimacing at the mess he’d made of Kuroo’s drink, “it’s not a dirty word, Suga.”

Suga sighed, “I know that. I was just trying to be gentle, Dai.”

Before Daichi could respond, Akaashi was jumping in, panic bubbling in his chest.

“D-Did I give the impression that it does? Did I say something insensitive o-or offend you? I know I can be rude sometimes, but I wasn’t, I didn’t mean-,” Akaashi couldn’t breathe around the anxiety gripping his chest.

He’d done it again. He’d hurt someone. Again. His mother was right; she’d always been right. He shouldn’t speak. All he does is hurt people. He’s disgusting, obnoxious, condescending, impossible to love. He shouldn’t be here with these people. They didn’t deserve someone like him. He had to _leave_.

The cup slipped from his hands, hot liquid splashing across his lap and dripping onto the floor. He didn’t feel it. He tried to stand, but his legs were numb, the urge to pass out clouding his vision. He shouldn’t be here—

A strong hand clamped down on his shoulder, and another, slimmer one, ran through his hair soothingly. 

“Can you hear me, Keiji?” The sudden sound of his given name escaping Suga’s lips shocked something in him, and he nodded once, sharply. 

“You did nothing wrong. Everyone has their insecurities, right? Now you know mine, and I, obviously, just found one of yours.”

Suga was smiling, tousling Akaashi’s hair affectionately. But he couldn’t be smiling, could he? He’d said something awful to this man, hadn’t he? 

The hand on Akaashi’s shoulder moved up to join the other in his hair, Daichi’s assuring voice following in after Suga’s.

“You lot are always so troublesome. Burning yourselves with my coffee and bringing in new strays for me to care about. Have you no shame?”

A small, breathy laugh fell from Akaashi’s lips, and he leaned into their touch. Warmth equal to that scalding his thighs spread through his chest, his heart weeping at the sudden sense of security. 

“Daichi,” Suga laughed, his tousling aggressive, “he obviously has issues.”

“They all have issues though,” Daichi responded, removing his hand to lean back and admire their handiwork.

“They?” Akaashi mumbled.

The pair looked at each other amusedly, Suga answering, “Our children,” before, he too, pulled his hand away.

Akaashi could feel his hair sticking up at several, odd angles as he glanced between the two of them, confused. 

“Welcome to the family.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Akaashi didn’t think he’d have to spend his first meeting with Azumane Asahi tugging at the dampened crotch of his jeans and promising for the seemingly hundredth time that he had _not_ , in fact, wet himself. Noya, of course, was convinced otherwise, trying to sway Asahi as well. Asahi himself looked decidedly uncomfortable, scratching the back of his neck in a habitual way, and smiling in an equally habitual manner every time Noya spoke. 

“So, Akaashi-san, are you staying here for the whole summer?” Asahi asked.

He thought about the mountains of un-packed boxes lurking in his Uncle’s living room and tried to imagine a reality where his belongings had all never left home. Neither his Uncle nor himself had been brave enough to bridge the topic of what all those boxes spelt for Akaashi’s future. Akaashi’s inability arising from a fear to know the truth and Atsuya’s stemming from a disgust towards it. 

“I’m not sure yet, and just Akaashi is fine,” he smiled politely and awaited the next inquiry. 

Akaashi had noticed early on that, while incredibly shy when asking, Asahi never seemed to run out of questions, the energy behind that trait similar to the radiance of both Noya and Bokuto’s personalities. 

Their conversation was interrupted, however, when Bokuto nudged Akaashi’s side, his smile blinding, “Hey, hey, Akaash. Suga wants to talk to you.”

Akaashi’s breath caught when the familiar sparkle of those golden eyes flitted in his direction, and he could have sworn that Bokuto looked equally as breathlessness. Smiling with a vivacity that only Bokuto seemed to arouse, Akaashi excused himself from the table and stumbled in Suga’s direction. 

Daichi was missing from behind the counter, and the stools were all vacant. This left Akaashi to sit alone with Sugawara, the suspicious atmosphere stirring something inside him.

“So, tell me, Akaashi,” Suga paused to kick at something behind the counter before continuing, “what are your intentions with my little Koutarou?”

Despite the somewhat innocent nature of the question, Akaashi’s face flamed, and he glanced over his shoulder to see if anyone else had heard. 

When he appeared good and rattled, Suga carried on, “You see, I only ask because I think he fancies you, and if you would be so kind as to court him… Well, that would be just lovely.”

Suga kicked behind the counter once more, his foot meeting some sort of resistance. After a few more fruitful hits, a yelp was heard, and Daichi emerged from below the counter, his face barely visible.

“I believe what Suga is very pompously trying to ask is… do you like Bo?”

Akaashi, again, glanced around to see if anyone was within earshot before responding.

“First of all, why were you hiding? Secondly, I think a better, more important question, would be if I even like guys in general,” Akaashi whispered, tugging at his soggy jeans in frustration.

His face was so flushed that his ears were even turning pink as the two of them seemed to contemplate his words. 

“Well,” Suga began, “do you?”

Akaashi’s immediate instinct was to say no. He’d never been attracted to men and had certainly never considered dating a man. At the same time, however, he’d never considered dating a woman either. Men and women alike were always flocking to him, complimenting his good looks only to later be turned off by the words that came out of his mouth. A pretty face was all he’d ever been in other’s eyes, so, of course, he’d never dated anyone. He never saw the point. 

That is, until he met Bokuto. He was the first person to ever speak of Akaashi without referencing his beauty. When introducing Akaashi to others, Bokuto always complimented his shampoo preferences and running capabilities, never his face. It was as though he could see everything Akaashi had hidden beneath the surface, like he could sense his suffering and desperately wanted to set him free. 

The realization of it all made his lips twitch and the familiar warmth re-enter his chest. A warmth he was beginning to identify as the embodiment of _possibility_. 

“I’ve never dated anyone before. I’m not sure what I like,” was Akaashi’s reply, the uncertainty in his words only half true. 

Daichi and Suga crouched down, apparently deciding it was the appropriate time to have a muffled meeting beneath the counter. 

Suga was the first to pop back up, his silver hair a mess atop his head, “Do you, by any chance, like owls?”

It was an absurd question to ask with the way their conversation had been going, but Akaashi answered regardless, “Love them. They’ve been my favorite animal since I was a kid.”

Daichi’s head snapped up as well, he and Suga making eye contact, and then they were both gone again. Suddenly, the two of them stood back up to their full height, leaning towards Akaashi with sly smiles.

“You know, Bo loves owls too; he’s obsessed with them, in fact,” Daichi said.

“And?” Akaashi said, still not understanding their train of thought at all.

Daichi began admiring his nails for dramatic effect, and then, when he wasn’t satisfied with the level of suspense, he admired Suga’s as well.

Akaashi leaned forward in his seat, pressing his bruised hipbone against the granite surface of the countertop.

“ _And_?” he persisted.

Daichi grinned, “they mate for life.”

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After several more owl references and Akaashi’s promise to think things over, Bokuto had offered to drive him home. By now, it was late afternoon, and the two of them were sharing yet another Kit-Kat bar when they pulled in his Uncle’s driveway. His Uncle usually didn’t get off work for a couple more hours, but today his pick-up was parked by the house, the garage door open and inviting. 

“Atsuya-san’s home early,” Bokuto noted, licking the chocolate from his fingers. 

Akaashi hummed in response, passing Bokuto the remainder of his candy simply because he liked the way the other boy’s golden eyes glinted at the prospect of another bite. 

“I’ve been wondering this for a while now, but… how exactly do you know my Uncle, Bokuto-san?” The question had always been in the back of Akaashi’s mind, but he’d never found a good time to ask.

“Huh? Oh, we work together. He didn’t tell you?” Bokuto scarfed down the last of his treat and turned so he was facing Akaashi. 

Akaashi mirrored his movements, the two of them now face to face. 

“He never mentioned it. You’re a mechanic then?” 

“Somewhat. I'm more of an apprentice actually. Atsuya-san says I’ll have to graduate before he’ll consider hiring me for real.”

The conversation continued, the two of them getting to know each other bit by bit as they now did every night. They talked until the sun went down and the automated porch lights came on, the telltale sign that it was time for them to part. 

Bokuto waited at the end of the drive until Akaashi was safely inside, the lights of his pick-up streaming down the road as he drove away. 

Akaashi had almost forgotten that his Uncle was already home until he rounded the corner and saw him sitting there, appearing small among the towers of boxes around him. Some of Akaashi’s furniture was even part of the mess now. 

“Keiji,” Atsuya began, patting the couch cushion beside him, “it’s time we talked.”

~ ~ ~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys. I'll be on vacation for a week starting tomorrow, so the next chapter won't be out until I get back. Sorry :(
> 
> I love hearing your feedback so feel free to comment and let me know what you thought!
> 
> Thanks so much to everyone who takes the time to read this! <3


	5. Let Me Fix It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What have I done to my poor Akaashi? Don’t worry. Bokuto will kiss it and make it better ;)

On any normal day, Akaashi would have been waiting outside when Bokuto arrived, his hair still damp from that morning’s shower and his hip leaning against the chipped paint of the porch railing. He would have begun walking down the driveway the moment Bokuto’s blue pick-up became visible, the two of them meeting halfway down its length with Akaashi pulling open the door before the truck could even come to a full stop. 

In a week’s time, they had become part of each other’s morning routine, two halves of the same whole. A day suddenly didn’t just consist of Bokuto’s antics or Akaashi’s activities; somewhere down the line they had become codependent, intertwined in the simplest of ways. 

That was why Bokuto was confused when Akaashi wasn’t waiting for him that morning, and why, minutes later, he still hadn’t come outside. 

It was an odd, sudden shift in the pattern the two of them had wordlessly established, the action itself inconceivable. 

When Akaashi still hadn’t come out after ten minutes, Bokuto assumed that the adolescent had simply overslept and was taking a quick shower. After twenty minutes, he grew concerned. After thirty, he was out of his vehicle and pounding on the front door with a distasteful urgency. 

There was no way Akaashi couldn’t hear his knocks, that he was somehow sleeping through them. The incessant pounding could wake the dead, even Bokuto’s ancestors were surely begging him to stop. 

With no other choice, Bokuto tried the knob and to his tortured surprise, the door swung inwards with silent ease. 

Panic and worry consumed his thoughts as he stormed through the house, forgetting to remove his mud-caked boots as fear began to sink deeper and deeper within his chest. 

_He just overslept. He stayed up too late or forgot to set his alarm. He’s fine. Everything’s fine._

Only it wasn’t fine. 

It was far from fine because when Bokuto called out, Akaashi didn’t answer, and when the anxious teen rounded the corner, he finally understood why. 

The living room was in shambles, unfamiliar furniture upturned or thrown haphazardly onto its side. The shredded remnants of carboard boxes were strewn about, each scrap surrounded by other, tattered objects that seemed equally out of place. A wet, muddy shoe print was plastered on the far wall, the dirty, abandoned sneaker beside it proving that the footwear had been thrown with killing force. Atsuya’s lamp that was usually located on an end-table had been cast aside, its shade cracked and the fluorescent bulb missing. 

Bokuto took a step further into the room, his boot catching on some sort of cloth and sending him tumbling across the floor. He let out a low curse, pushing himself into a kneeling position and then freezing suddenly. 

The lights were off, but the outside rays streaming in through the blinds were more than enough for Bokuto to see the sickening halo of broken glass outlining the velvety brown locks of Akaashi’s hair. 

He was lying, motionless, his eyes wide but unseeing, and his bloodied hands clutching at the rough carpet beneath him. 

No sounds were made other than Bokuto’s erratic, frenzied pants that largely overshadowed Akaashi’s even breaths. 

The usual vibrant, sea green of Akaashi’s eyes had dulled significantly, and Bokuto wondered, briefly, if he should be ashamed to still regard them as beautiful. 

Unexpectedly, Akaashi’s hollow voice broke the silence, “Am I so terrible, Bokuto-san?”

Bokuto wasn’t sure how to answer, but Akaashi hardly gave him the chance. 

“Did you know there’s a word for people like me? _Disgusting_. At least, that’s what my mom always told me,” he stopped to further fist his hands into the carpet, “she always said I was impossible to be around, that I was a fuck-up, a fluke, a mistake. _Disgusting_.”

Bokuto tried to speak, but Akaashi’s voice carried on.

“Just for the summer, she’d said. She just needed time to think, a few months to forget how worthless I am. Atsuya keeps saying it’s not my fault, that she’s in the wrong, but it’s gotta be my fault, right? I got angry and broke stuff like I always do; she got drunk and hit me like she always does. I must have said something she didn’t like. I always say things that hurt other people.”

Akaashi turned, eyes glassy, and Bokuto stared back too shocked to do anything else. Akaashi’s fingers reached up to grip the fabric of his shirt just over the rapid beat of his own heart. He tugged at the material, a choked sob falling past his lips.

“What did I do, Bokuto-san?” he was gasping between his cries now, “ _why doesn’t she love me?_ ”

The pain and sorrow behind Akaashi’s words knocked the wind from Bokuto’s lungs, and he lunged forward to lift Akaashi into a sitting position. With the rational half of Bokuto’s brain out of commission, he found himself wrapping his arms around the other boy’s midsection and pulling him against his chest. 

To his surprise, Akaashi reciprocated the gesture, burying his face in Bokuto’s neck to calm the spastic sobs wracking his body. 

They sat for a long time, long enough for Akaashi’s cries to turn into soft sniffles that tickled the skin of Bokuto’s collarbone. At some point, Bokuto’s hands had bunched in the back of Akaashi’s T-shirt, causing it to ride up and expose the pale, smooth skin of his back. Bokuto wanted to touch it, to touch him more intimately, but he retracted his hands instead. 

Akaashi pulled away as well, his nose red and his eyes puffy. He pitifully wiped at his face with the collar of his shirt, not realizing that he still looked plenty attractive in Bokuto’s eyes. 

Bokuto cleared his throat gently, trying desperately to ensure that he asked the right question.

“What happened after I left last night?”

It took Akaashi a few seconds to formulate an answer, the thought of rehashing past events not sitting well with him. 

“When I came inside, my Uncle was waiting for me. He said that we needed to talk…”

~~~  
_“Keiji,” Atsuya began, patting the couch cushion beside him, “it’s time we talked.”_

_Akaashi plopped into his seat, anxiety nipping in the back of his mind at the sheer amount of his belongings that had now invaded his Uncle’s living space._

_“I spoke with your mother today,” at this, Akaashi sat up a bit straighter, his ears more attentive, “I’m sure you can guess as to what the subject of our conversation was.”_

_Akaashi glanced around the room once more, nodding in affirmation._

_“Keiji, your mother…” his Uncle looked skywards as though the rest of his sentence could be read from the ceiling, “… is an idiot.”_

_Confused, Akaashi felt no need to respond, waiting for his Uncle to continue._

_“She’d always been an airhead ever since we were young, but when your father left… Well, she turned into a bit of a neurotic basket case.”_

_“Despite what your mom may have told you over the years, your father wasn’t a bad person. The man had only ever really made two mistakes in his life. The first was that he married your mother on a whim as young people, sadly, often do.”_

_This was, as far as Akaashi had been told, true. According to his mother, she and his father got married at the ripe age of eighteen, wedding bells ringing soon after the final bell of their senior year._

_“And the second mistake?” Akaashi asked._

_Atsuya sighed, looking skywards once more, “that he didn’t take you with him when he left.”_

_Akaashi chuckled at the obvious joke, taking his Uncle by surprise._

_“And how exactly was he supposed to take me when I wasn’t even born yet?”_

_Atsuya frowned, a large crease forming between his brows, “Is that what she told you?”_

_At this, Akaashi’s laughter died, his heart suddenly finding its way to his throat._

_“Keiji, your father left just after your second birthday. You were so young that it doesn’t surprise me that you don’t remember him.”_

_His Uncle stood and crossed the room to a bookshelf on the far wall. He grabbed a dusty photo album from the highest shelf and opened it up. He reseated himself, placing the book in Akaashi’s lap and gazing over his shoulder._

_The first picture was of Keiji, his Uncle, and his mother all gathered at the beach, each of them smiling into the camera. The only problem was that Akaashi had never been to a beach, and he looked to be the same age in the photo as he is now._

_“That was the summer before your parent’s senior year,” Atsuya began, “your father, Hiroya, was my closest friend, which was part of what drew the two of them together. Bet he looks familiar, huh?”_

_Akaashi was dumbstruck. It was obviously him in the picture, but, now, as he looked closer, he realized that this man was quite a bit tanner and his muscles were much more defined. This was Akaashi’s father._

_The album was removed, and Atsuya turned so he was looking at Akaashi straight on._

_“Does it make a bit of sense now why your mother treats you the way she does? Do you understand what I’m trying to tell you?”_

_Akaashi stared at his Uncle vacantly because he did understand, he’d always understood on some level. He was disgusting, hard to be around, impossible to like._

_He was his father’s son after all._

_“Keiji,” Akaashi’s head snapped up, showing his Uncle that he was still listening, “your mother told me that she doesn’t want you to come home when the summer ends. I told her that I’d never planned on sending you home to her drunken ass in the first place, but the choice is still yours. I won’t force you to stay here if it’s truly not what you want.”_

_It wasn’t what he wanted, but he didn’t have much of a choice now did he?_

_“Now, I have a few late-night errands to run, and I wouldn’t be too upset if a few things got… damaged while I was gone,” Atsuya announced, grabbing his keys and heading for the door._

_He paused before rounding the corner, choosing not to turn around before speaking, “Good night, Keiji. I love you.”_

_Akaashi was kicking over an end table and stomping out the bulb of a lamp before his Uncle had even made it off the porch steps._

~~~  
Bokuto was stunned, partly because he’d never heard Akaashi speak that much in one sitting but mostly because of the events discussed. 

He couldn’t believe that Akaashi, sweet, delicate Akaashi, had caused all this destruction by himself, or, even more unbelievable, that Atsuya-san had just let him. The news about Akaashi’s mother explained a few of the abnormal aspects of his personality, namely his cageyness and fear to speak too freely when they were in the presence of others. 

“So, you did all of this then?” Bokuto asked, gesturing to the scattered remains of Akaashi’s belongings.

Akaashi had the decency to blush.

He scratched at his cheek meekly, “I have a bit of a temper, you see…”

Bokuto smiled, reaching for Akaashi’s bloodied hand and gently rubbing his thumb over the bruised knuckles.

“Well, as a mechanic-,”

“Mechanic’s _apprentice_ ,” Akaashi corrected, letting Bokuto take his other hand. 

Bokuto laughed, “Right. As a mechanic’s _apprentice_ , whenever I feel frustrated or upset, I fix things. That means we make quite the pair huh, Akaash?”

Akaashi hummed in agreement, enjoying the tender way Bokuto’s hands held his own. 

Still feeling bold from the way Akaashi had let himself be held before, Bokuto leaned forward.

“You know, I’m super pissed off right now, “he paused to press a warm kiss to the bloody, tattered skin of Akaashi’s knuckles, “you kept saying that you’re disgusting, a mistake, and all these other awful things. It really pissed me off.”

Akaashi opened his mouth to apologize, but the dark, unfamiliar shade of Bokuto’s eyes caused it to snap shut moments later. 

“It pissed me off that you could say those things when you’re obviously perfect, that your own mother put those nasty thoughts in your head.”

He reached up with one hand to brush the glass shards from Akaashi’s hair, his fingers lingering longer than necessary. 

“I’m upset that you weren’t waiting for me outside, that you didn’t answer when I called out to you, and that you sat here mutilating yourself all night.”

Bokuto leaned in further, pressing their foreheads together so close that the two of them were nearly sharing the same breaths. 

“ _It really pisses me off_ ,” he whispered, both hands now coming to rest on Akaashi’s cheeks, his thumbs smoothing across the skin ever so lightly. 

Akaashi felt like he couldn’t breathe, the familiar sensation of possibility tingling throughout his entire body.

Bokuto sighed softly, “Let me fix it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back!
> 
> My vacation took place in a little cabin with no plumbing, electricity, or internet access. Its simplicity was both a blessing and a curse as it kept me from writing up until now. I did a lot of brainstorming for this book with my free time, however, so I really hope you guys liked this chapter!
> 
> Comment. Comment. Comment. Your feedback is food for my soul :)
> 
> Thanks so much to everyone who takes the time to read this! <33


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